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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282308">"it's my party (&amp; i'll cry if i want to)"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome'>talkwordytome</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>CAOS pre-canon kid!fics &amp; family!fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/pseuds/talkwordytome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You can focus on having fun,” Zelda snapped, running a hairbrush irritably through her auburn curls. “I’ll focus on surviving this night with all of my limbs intact.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Hellhounds, Zelda,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s a group of little mortal girls spending the night, not an army of demons arriving to declare infernal war. How bad can it possibly be?”</i></p><p> </p><p>or: in which Sabrina has a slumber party for her 8th birthday, &amp; predictable chaos ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hilda Spellman &amp; Sabrina Spellman, Hilda Spellman &amp; Sabrina Spellman &amp; Zelda Spellman, Hilda Spellman &amp; Zelda Spellman, Sabrina Spellman &amp; Zelda Spellman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>CAOS pre-canon kid!fics &amp; family!fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>CAOS pre-canon kid!fics &amp; family!fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"it's my party (&amp; i'll cry if i want to)"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic ended up being a lot more Zelda-centric than I initially envisioned it would be, but I'm pleased with how it ended up. I hope y'all enjoy it, too.</p><p>There's a  part in this fic that references Zelda having to wear mortal clothes, &amp; that's actually inspired by one of my favorite Spellwell fics, "What Not to Wear" by daisygrl, in which Mary Wardwell helps Zelda shop for a new outfit at a mortal department store. It's an adorable &amp; wonderfully characterized bit of writing, y'all, &amp; you should absolutely check it out! Along with all of daisygrl's other stuff :D</p><p>Title comes from the Lesley Gore song of the same name!</p><p>Shout out to my lovely &amp; fantastic girlfriend, csiscullyjanewaygay, for her brilliant beta'ing skills! Could not ask for a better editor (or partner).</p><p>I own neither CAOS nor any of its characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>October 2010</b>
</p><p>“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this, Hilda.”</p><p>“Oh, Zelds, lighten up; it’s going to be <i>fun</i>!”</p><p>“You can focus on having fun,” Zelda snapped, running a hairbrush irritably through her auburn curls. “I’ll focus on surviving this night with all of my limbs intact.”</p><p>“Hell<i>hounds</i>, Zelda,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s a group of little mortal girls spending the night, not an army of demons arriving to declare infernal war. How bad can it possibly be?”</p><p>“You’ve seen the state of any given room of this house after Sabrina leaves it,” Zelda said darkly. “You tell me.”</p><p>“It’s for her birthday, Zelda,” Hilda said, voice wheedling. “She deserves to have a bit of fun every now and again, doesn’t she?”</p><p>Zelda snorted. “That little girl gets her share of fun and then some,” she said wryly. “You and Ambrose make certain of that, I have no doubt.”</p><p>“Yes, we do,” Hilda said, slightly wounded. “That’s part of loving a child. Are we meant to keep from loving her, Zelda?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Zelda said, bristling at the unspoken implications in Hilda’s question. “But you are supposed to keep from spoiling her. You indulge her every last whim, Hilda.”</p><p>“Need I remind you that you also agreed to the slumber party?”</p><p>“Really, did I?” Zelda said with mock bewilderment. “How strange. Because I seem to remember agreeing that Sabrina could invite over her two dearest friends for dinner and a quiet night. I very much do <i>not</i> remember agreeing that Sabrina could invite over <i>seven</i> little girls—five of whom we’ve <i>never met</i>, by the way—for pizza, ice cream sundaes, a fairy princess fashion show—whatever <i>that</i> means—and a slumber party that purports to include precious little actual slumber.”</p><p>“I—er, well,” Hilda faltered, “that’s… it’s possible that I let Sabrina get just a teensy bit… carried away when she was doing her party preparations.” She continued her tidying in silence, awaiting a response. When none came aloud, she looked up to find that her sister was glaring daggers at her from under arched brows. “Alright, <i>fine</i>,” she hastily amended, “a <i>lot</i> carried away.”</p><p>“And as if that wasn’t already bad enough,” Zelda said, resuming her hair brushing, “you’re making me wear <i>this</i>.” She gestured to her outfit, a casual and decidedly mortal ensemble Hilda had picked up at Greendale’s only mall. “These… <i>jeans</i>.” Her mouth puckered as she spoke the word ‘jeans’ as if it tasted sour.</p><p>“Your usual clothes are lovely, Zelds,” Hilda said carefully, “but, perhaps, a bit too… severe for a group of second grade girls. Or mortal ones, anyway.”</p><p>“Satan in Hell, Hilda, I’m wearing flats and a <i>t-shirt</i>,” Zelda said despairingly. “I’ve never worn a t-shirt in my life.”</p><p>“On the bright side, its lilac color brings out your eyes,” Hilda said cheerfully. </p><p>“Aunties!” Sabrina shouted from the foot of the stairs, rescuing Hilda from imminent strangulation at Zelda’s hands.  “The first guest is here! Can I let them in? Are you coming downstairs?”</p><p>“Gird your loins, sister,” Zelda said grimly, gripping the edge of her dresser. “It has begun.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>Zelda had always known that, between the Spellman sisters, Hilda was the more maternal. Mothering came naturally to her younger sister in a way it never had for her, and Zelda had never resented her for this. They both had their individual strengths, and Satan knew she was grateful for Hilda’s as they went about raising Sabrina.<p>But in spite of it all, Zelda had also assumed she understood little girls on a basic intellectual level—after all, she’d once been a little girl, albeit a rather long time ago, and Hilda had been a little girl when she had been a teenager, and now she was partially responsible for Sabrina’s upbringing. Children were <i>children</i>; how complex could their internal lives and rhythms possibly be?<br/>
</p><p>After spending approximately two hours and 45 minutes in the company of seven little mortal girls (plus her own adopted half-mortal), Zelda Spellman had come to a realization: she really, truly, did not understand them.</p><p>There was all the glitter, first of all; did Sabrina leave a trail of glitter like her friends seemed to? And if she did, how had Zelda never noticed? These children shed flecks of glitter over every surface: on the kitchen tile, in the unfinished cups of sickly blue juice they left on the table, on Ambrose’s poor familiar, and even in Zelda’s hair. Their lung capacity was also, frankly, astounding. Anything that happened—big or small, happy or upsetting, exciting or tedious—elicited a chorus of high-pitched shrieks. Their little fingers were constantly sticky, they never stopped talking, they cried at the drop of the hat, and they always <i>needed</i> something: <i>Miss Spellman, my shoelaces are all knotted and I can’t get them undone; Miss Spellman, I fell and skinned my knee and now it’s bleeding; Miss Spellman, is it almost dinner time?; Miss Spellman, I need to use the bathroom; Miss Spellman, Sabrina isn’t sharing; Miss Spellman, I need help</i>! Satan, the endless <i>needing</i> of things was going to be the death of her.</p><p>Hilda, naturally, was in her element. Sabrina’s friends absolutely adored her, following her around the house like ducklings trailing after their mother. This was fine enough with Zelda, and they’d managed to get through the pizza and ice cream sundaes with no major crises—Satan be praised—though Zelda couldn’t help feeling a bit awkward and left out of things. It’s not that she <i>wanted</i> a coterie of loud, glitter-coated imps tripping at her heels, but there was a small, insipid voice in her head that was very concerned that none of them even seemed to <i>like</i> her.</p><p>Zelda was in the kitchen washing up the ice cream bowls as Hilda organized the fairy princess fashion show in the parlor when she felt a small body sidle up next to her own. She looked down and saw one of Sabrina’s party guests, and in fact it was one she recognized. Zelda was uncommonly fond of Susie Putnam; she was a quiet, well-mannered child, and had been one of Sabrina’s best friends since kindergarten. She mostly liked to play pretend games—preferable because they created less mess than Sabrina and Roz’s crafting sprees or she and Harvey’s romps through the muddy parts of the woods—and her father had never once tried to make small talk when he came to drop her off. Zelda’s favorite mortals were, after all, the ones who minded their own business. </p><p>“Hello, Susie,” Zelda said, wincing internally at how stiff and formal she sounded. “Do you need something?”</p><p>Susie shrugged and pulled at a loose thread on her sweater. “Is it okay if I stay in here and help you clean up?” she asked shyly.<br/>
</p><p>Zelda’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “I’ll happily welcome an extra set of hands,” she said, working to imbue her voice with the warmth Hilda’s always seemed to possess. “Are you not participating in the fashion show?”</p><p>Another shrug, followed by a more decisive head shake. “I don’t really like that kind of stuff,” she said, wrinkling her nose and grabbing a dirty dish. “The super girly frilly stuff, I mean.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Zelda said, and she was surprised to find that she really did understand what the child meant. “I was never particularly taken in by it when I was your age, either. Are you enjoying yourself otherwise?”</p><p>“Oh, ye-<i>es</i>,” Susie said, though she didn’t meet Zelda’s eyes. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Zelda prodded with uncommon gentleness.</p><p>“I’ve never done a stay-over before,” Susie said, neck flushing, “and I’m scared that, well, what if I wake up and I can’t find the bathroom? Or I miss my dad? And…” here she fumbled, the blush on her neck creeping up towards her face, “and I know it’s not true ‘cause I’ve been here before and Sabrina says it’s a lie but Jenny said that, um, that the houseishauntedandwhatifIseeaghost?”</p><p>The last part of her sentence came out in such a rush that Zelda had to take a moment to decipher it. Then she felt a strange and sudden rush of anger. Jenny Adair was one of the children Zelda hadn’t ever met, a pretty thing with glossy black braids and the threat of mischief in her eyes. </p><p>“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Zelda said, her annoyance at the Jenny child making her suddenly brusque. “Susie, I have lived in this house for years and years,” she said, taking care to lighten her tone after Susie flinched, “and I can promise you that it is most assuredly <i>not</i> haunted.”</p><p>Susie considered this for a moment, then said, “Do you <i>really</i> promise?” Her serious brown eyes stared into Zelda’s green ones. </p><p>“I really, <i>really</i> promise,” Zelda said solemnly, gracing Susie with the faintest, rarest hint of a smile, like sunshine breaking through the clouds after a week of rain.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div><p>“Hilda, we can’t possibly let them watch that trash…!”</p><p>“Excuse you, Zelds;<i>The Wizard of Oz</i> is a classic.”</p><p>“It is <i>utter</i> garbage,” Zelda said with a derisive sniff. “Wicked Witch of the West, indeed.”</p><p>“I keep <i>telling</i> you to read <i>Wicked</i>, Zelda,” Hilda said as she stirred cream into her Emergency Slumber Party cup of evening coffee. “It really does rehabilitate the character. She’s the hero of the story, not the villain. Regardless, Judy Garland is marvelous.”</p><p>“Aunties?” Sabrina said, poking her head into the kitchen. Zelda silently thanked various demons for the interruption, which she knew had saved her multiple minutes of Hilda rhapsodizing about a mediocre mortal film. </p><p>“Yes, hen?” Hilda said.</p><p>“Can you make us some more popcorn? And maybe hot cocoa? Pretty please?” Sabrina begged, batting her eyelashes.</p><p>“There’s no need for such a performance, Sabrina,” Zelda said dryly. “Your Aunt Hilda will get you your snacks with or without the added theatrics.”</p><p>“Hush, you,” Hilda chided her sister, already moving towards the pantry. “Would you like whipped cream on your cocoa, darling girl? Or sprinkles?”</p><p>“Ooh, both,” Sabrina said, smiling like an unholy cherub. “Thank you, Auntie.”</p><p>Sabrina turned to Zelda expectantly. “Can I…?” </p><p>Zelda rolled her eyes, but allowed Sabrina to clamber onto her lap all the same. “You’re getting too big for this,” Zelda said, pressing an absent kiss to the crown of Sabrina’s head. “You’re eight years old.”</p><p>“Not until Tuesday,” Sabrina reminded her. “Have you bought my presents yet?”</p><p>Zelda raised an eyebrow. “Who said you’re getting any presents?” she said, mouth twitching.</p><p>Sabrina stuck out her tongue. “Very funny, Auntie Zee,” she said. She snuggled closer into Zelda, relishing the rare moment of physical affection. “Thank you for letting me have the slumber party.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Sabrina,” Zelda said, smiling tiredly at her niece. “It is your birthday, after all.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div><p>At approximately two in the morning, Zelda sat bolt upright in bed. “Hilda,” she whispered.</p><p>“Mmmph.”</p><p>“<i>Hilda</i>.”</p><p>“Mmpf… <i>what</i> Zelda? Hells bells, what time is it?” Hilda said, sitting up halfway and groggily rubbing her eyes.</p><p>“Do you remember,” Zelda said slowly, “those <i>Madeline</i> books you read to Sabrina when she was younger?”</p><p>Hilda blinked. “Zelds,” she said, “are you talking in your sleep again?”</p><p>Zelda shook her head. “Something,” she said softly, “is not right.”</p><p>She swept back her covers and leapt out of bed, Hilda grumbling sleepily as she followed behind. When they got to the top of the stairs Zelda stopped quite abruptly and held up a hand. “Listen.”</p><p>“Oh, Zelda, <i>honestly</i>--”</p><p>“<i>Shhh</i>!” Zelda commanded, then closed her eyes. “There. Do you hear that?”</p><p>Hilda huffed but did as she was told, her expression shifting from annoyed to worried when she finally heard what Zelda had. “Someone’s crying,” she said.</p><p>Both witches raced down the stairs and into the parlor. The room was in utter chaos; sleeping bags and pillows and shimmery costume pieces and greasy bits of popcorn were littered across their patchwork of antique rugs. Perhaps even more alarming than the material disarray, half the girls were also in tears, and Sabrina and Jenny Adair looked like they might soon come to blows. Susie in particular seemed badly off; she was huddled in a far corner, sobbing so violently that Zelda was concerned the poor child was going to make herself ill.</p><p>Hilda spoke first. “What in the name of—<i>Sabrina</i>,” she said, absolutely bewildered, “what is going <i>on</i>? You all are acting as though you’ve seen some sort of—“</p><p>“Ghost,” Zelda finished flatly. She turned her gaze to Jenny, who at the very least had the sense to look sheepish. “Am I correct, Jennifer?”</p><p>An angry red flush blossomed on Jenny’s cheeks upon being singled out, but it was Sabrina who answered. “We were telling scary stories,” she explained, and Zelda was pleased to see that though Sabrina was a bit pale and shaken she was not crying; Spellman women were made of sterner stuff indeed. “And Jenny said she knew a way to get a ghost to visit us, and I told her that she was making up lies, and she said that no she wasn’t and that she could prove it, so we all held hands and made a circle and—”</p><p>“Ah! Thank you, I think I’ve heard quite enough,” Zelda said tartly. Her face softened ever so slightly when she glanced over at Susie again, who was still sitting in a weepy heap in the far corner. “Hilda, might you take Susie to the kitchen for some tea?”</p><p>Hilda nodded. “There we are, love,” she said gently, wrapping an arm around Susie’s shoulders and helping her up. “That’s a good girl. We’ll go and get your face washed, hmm? Then a nice, hot cuppa, maybe a few biscuits, and you’ll be right as rain. Poor little lamb, those stories gave you such a fright, didn’t they?”</p><p>As Hilda led Susie out of the parlor and towards the bathroom, Zelda did not miss the nasty smirk that flashed across Jenny Adair’s mouth. Whatever softness had been in Zelda’s face moments ago vanished, and when she turned back to the remaining girls they gulped.</p><p>“Here,” she began in a low, dangerous voice, “is what is going to happen. The seven of you are going to lie very, very still. You are not going to fidget, you are not going to giggle, you are not going to speak, you are not even going to <i>breathe</i> too loudly. And I am going to sit right here in this chair, watching you, until all of you are sound asleep, just as you should have been some hours ago. Am I being <i>quite</i> clear?”</p><p>“What happens if we don’t?” Jenny Adair muttered.</p><p>Zelda inhaled sharply. “If you are unable to follow my <i>exceedingly</i> simple directions,” she said imperiously, “then you will face some very unpleasant consequences. Am I clear enough <i>now</i>, Jennifer?”</p><p>Jenny scowled but wisely did not reply. “Aunt Zee—” Sabrina tried, looking at Zelda anxiously, but she just shook her head.</p><p>“Sabrina,” Zelda said, taking just enough edge from her voice that only her niece could detect it, “now is not a good time. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~</p>
</div>By one the following afternoon all of Sabrina’s party guests had been picked up. Zelda had taken great pleasure in haughtily informing a startled Mrs. Adair that Jennifer would not be invited back until she learned to behave herself with more decorum, and the half-witch host herself was sleeping soundly on the parlor couch.<p>“I think it went over well, all in all,” Hilda said as she and Zelda folded freshly washed heaps of blankets and sheets back into the linen closet. </p><p>Zelda gave her a disbelieving look. “Oh, yes, very well,” she said, not without a trace of humor. “Other than the messes, and the crying, and the 2:00 AM hysterics, the party was simply splendid.”</p><p>“They’re little girls, Zelds,” Hilda said, offering her sister a half-smile. “Messes and crying and late night hysterics are what they do.”</p><p>“Not Sabrina.”</p><p>“Sabrina is different and you know that,” Hilda said, then sighed. “That poor dear Susie, though. I was worried I would have to slip a calming draught in her tea she was shaking so terribly.”</p><p>“Where did you take her?” </p><p>“The upstairs guest room,” Hilda said, smoothing the wrinkles in a tartan blanket. “I read her the first few chapters of <i>Stuart Little</i> and she drifted off around 3:30 or so.”</p><p>A queer, wistful look passed over Zelda’s face, quick enough that most people would’ve missed it. But Hilda Spellman wasn’t most people. “What’s wrong, Zelds?” she asked.</p><p>Zelda didn’t answer for so long that Hilda let her mind drift elsewhere. She startled when Zelda finally said, “You always know just what to do in those situations. You have such an innate knack for looking after others, for making them feel better.”</p><p>Zelda refused to meet Hilda’s eyes, and Hilda knew just how much this small compliment cost her sister. “Caring for people is an art like anything else, Zelds,” she said delicately. “It takes practice, that’s all. And you know what,” she said, elbowing Zelda playfully, “you’re better at it than you give yourself credit for. Susie had plenty of lovely things to say about <i>you</i>.”</p><p>“Did she really?” Zelda said, feigning disinterest. “How kind of her.”</p><p>Hilda bit back a smile. “Said you let her help out in the kitchen when she didn’t want to do the fashion show with the others,” Hilda said. “It was very lovely of you, you know, giving her something to do when she felt lonely and left out.”</p><p>“She asked me,” Zelda blustered. “What was I supposed to do, say no?”</p><p>“To be fair, Zelds, you often do when it’s someone else asking,” Hilda said, closing the linen closet door.</p><p>Zelda shrugged, unperturbed by the very real fact her sister had put into words. “Most people need some taking down a few,” she answered, matter-of-fact. </p><p>When they went to the parlor to check on Sabrina, she was still cuddled up on the couch, dead to the world. “Should we wake her up?” Hilda whispered.</p><p>“Oh, let her sleep,” Zelda whispered back, a rare tenderness lighting her eyes. “Doesn’t she look just darling?”</p><p>“If we let her nap too long she’ll be wide awake come bedtime,” Hilda said, then laughed. “I feel like we’re stepping on each other’s lines.”</p><p>Zelda tucked an errant blonde curl behind Sabrina’s ear. Sabrina sighed and turned over, snuggling deeper into her blankets. “Perhaps she does need to be indulged,” Zelda said, softly and fondly, “every now and then.”</p><p>Hilda managed to restrain herself from throwing delighted arms around her sister, but only just. “Yes,” she said instead, grinning. “Perhaps she does, indeed.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I refer to Susie as Susie and not Theo in this fic because it takes place before his transition (obviously). If I ever include Theo in a fic that takes place in the present day, I'll of course use his chosen name!</p><p>The part where Zelda sits down with the girls and refuses to leave until they're all asleep is inspired by my own life: I also had a slumber party for my 8th birthday, my guests and I also got hysterical about a ghost, and my mother also sat down in her easy chair until we were quiet. It's a family story to this very day.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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